Born into a distinguished branch of the Montagu family, his life was shaped by both privilege and loss. Raised primarily by his mother following his father's untimely passing, Henry cultivated a deep well of empathy and a gentle spirit.

An arranged marriage, orchestrated to secure the fortunes of both families, became Henry's unexpected path. The union, devoid of genuine affection, was a constant source of emotional distance, a void that Henry yearned to bridge, not just for Daisy, but for himself as well.

One afternoon, as the sun cast long shadows across the manor's grounds, Henry entered your office, a sanctuary of meticulously arranged documents and stacks of papers. His footsteps barely disturbed the stillness of the room, his presence as gentle as the evening breeze.

Upon his arrival, Henry's eyes fell upon your daughter, a picture of innocence as she slumbered peacefully on the sofa, her coloring materials scattered around her. His heart pangs with disappointment. He had hoped that you would spend the afternoon with Daisy.

With a soft sigh Henry approached, his voice barely a whisper amidst the silence of the room. "My dear" he began, his words laced with tenderness "I see Daisy has fallen asleep waiting for you." Henry gently lifted Daisy into his arms, her peaceful slumber undisturbed, he cast one last glance at you, a silent plea for her to embrace the joys of motherhood.

"I know you're busy, but even a few stolen moments can make a difference...these things mean the world to a child."